


Turn the Fear into Roses (To Plant in a Garden)

by SimplySupreme



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/F, Femmeslash If You Squint, Original Character of Color, POV Original Character, but definitely room for more down the road, completely shameless use of tropes, elsa isn't the only one with magic in this world, juniper is basically poison ivy, only a one shot so far, she has a lot of feelings, she's just doing her best, springtime magic, they've only just met after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 18:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19431334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplySupreme/pseuds/SimplySupreme
Summary: Fear is the enemy, but for people like Elsa and Juniper it's more than familiar. It's a way of life. And Juniper, who hadn't had the luxury of being born royalty, had never dreamed that living without it could ever be an option for her. Not with her powers constantly hovering at her fingertips just waiting for the slightest slip-up to break free.Still, when she hears tell of the magical Snow Queen, Juniper can't help but journey to Arendelle with the desperate hope that there, she might have the chance to live openly without fear of being hunted down for witchcraft. It's a desperate gamble to be sure... but she's never been one to look before leaping.





	Turn the Fear into Roses (To Plant in a Garden)

It was quiet here, in the gardens. Arendelle was so bustling and full of life, such solitude was an unusual thing to find. I could see why very few ventured here, though. The space was cold and dead: the earth hard and grey, the plants scraggly and frail. These weren’t cheerful gardens. Gardens weren’t supposed to be lifeless like this. I suppose what made it worse was seeing the evidence that these gardens hadn’t always been so cold and empty –the occasional bright blossom or polished stone catching my eye as I wandered through. These gardens were beautiful, once. I imagined them full of laughing people in bright, colorful suits and dresses, flitting here and there like the dancing petals of an exotic flower, their laughter floating through the air like ephemeral pixie-lights. They must have been breathtaking to witness once, before the doors of the palace had closed all those years ago. Those doors had opened again, with the new Queen. The Snow Queen, they called her. She’s why I’d come here in the first place, really.

I wasn’t a born citizen of the Southern Isles. I’d left my original home –a tiny island just off the southernmost coast of Portugal—at the tender age of twelve. (Though perhaps it was less “left” than “was driven from”. To say that I’d left implied that I’d had the option to stay. And that hadn’t been an option at all.) Regardless, I’d arrived in the Southern Isles after almost two years of venturing northward from coastal town to coastal town, rarely staying anywhere longer than a few weeks for fear of losing control and being driven away again. But with each town, I was able to stay for longer and longer as that control improved; and shortly after turning fourteen, I’d bought passage to the Southern Isles and had simply never left. But despite having lived there for years, I’d had no real attachment to the country itself. I just… didn’t have anywhere better to go, I supposed. So when the youngest prince was returned to his homeland in disgrace, he and his entourage telling tales to anyone who would listen of Arendelle’s young new Witch Queen and her remarkable powers of winter… I’d left. (And it _was_ leaving, this time. It was the first time I’d ever done so in a way that couldn’t be considered fleeing.)

I just couldn’t help it. I’d had to see her for myself. Because I’d never even _heard_ of someone else like me before. Certainly there’d always been tales of magic and witchcraft that mothers told their misbehaving children in the dead of night to inspire obedience, or even quirky local legends of various fairy creatures that were older than even the towns they were told in. But I’d never heard tell of any human being as powerful, current, or real as I knew myself to be. Maybe it was for fear of capture and execution that they kept themselves well-hidden. I know that’s what _I_ feared, after being chased from my birthplace by an angry mob as a mere child. So to hear –from eavesdropping on the gossip in the local marketplace, of all places—that not only was I not alone, but that my counterpart was a _Queen_ … I knew that Arendelle was the place for me. I’d sold every possession I had and had taken passage on the first ship out of the port the very next morning.

Though it had been years since I’d uprooted my life and moved to a foreign land, it was something that I’d long since become comfortable with out of sheer necessity. And I was more fortunate than most, because despite being the curse that had destroyed any hope I had for leading a normal life, my magic was also a blessing. From the moment it had first manifested in my infancy, I’d never had to worry about going hungry again: not when I could coax food from the ground with a mere snap of my fingers. (The danger hadn’t come until I was older, when the slightest of emotional upsets would cause the earth beneath my feet to churn and erupt with strangling vines or razor-sharp thorns or branching roots aggressive enough to break bones, flay away skin, and topple entire buildings.) It meant that no matter where I traveled, I’d always have food, and even shelter or protection should I need it. And should I require money, I was never short fruits or flowers to sell in local markets regardless of the planting season.

Arendelle was the farthest north I’d ever been in my life, but despite how jarring I found the cold, I couldn’t help but be captivated by the scenery as the little ship I’d bought passage on glided smoothly into the fjord. It all seemed so… majestic. Pristine. Once I’d disembarked, I’d found the city itself to be much the same. It was clean and well-built, and though it was worn, I found it more charming than anything. The people of Arendelle I encountered in my first venture into the city were smiling and just as clean and well-built as their home it seemed, which I decided boded well for my future here. It wasn’t hard to book an open room for myself at a cheerful-looking inn with a tavern on the ground floor that I spent that evening in, indulging in my first taste of Arendelle’s local cuisine and familiarizing myself with the locals. (Well, those locals I could, anyways. Many had accents that were so thick, I found them nigh unintelligible; and I assume they felt the same with me. I’d be the first to admit that the Nordic languages weren’t my strongest, but having traveled so often in my youth, I was quite good at picking up languages wherever I went, and I was quite confident the issue would resolve itself with time.)

One of the first things I learned was that the rumors of the new Queen having magical abilities were true. I’d heard a garbled, second-hand version of the events surrounding Queen Elsa’s coronation (which had by now occurred nearly six months ago) in the marketplace back on the Southern Isles; but once a few locals had had a few pints of mead in them, I was treated to about four and a half first-hand accounts. (One older gentleman had nodded off halfway through his own story, which had prompted two younger men to offer their own in return.) But what struck me most of all throughout the night was how fiercely Queen Elsa’s people _loved_ her. Though I was sure that some people existed who disliked her –since no ruler had ever lived that could make every citizen happy—I nevertheless didn’t hear a word against her or the Princess Anna the whole evening. Her people were proud, it seemed, to have such a powerful protector living in the palace in their very city. And the younger Princess seemed to be their universal darling.

The very concept of such easy acceptance –much less the actual practicing of tolerance and downright celebration—of magical ability that I witnessed that night absolutely floored me. It wasn’t that I hadn’t experienced kindness and compassion in my life. Despite the fact that my own family had feared me and participated in driving me from my original home, I’d escaped being burned for witchcraft that night with the help of no less than three compassionate adults; and in the years that followed, more than one kind soul had offered aid or companionship to me even when confronted with the reality of my powers. But for every person who had opened their hand to me in friendship in the past, at least ten more had raised it against me in fear and aggression. I had learned through hard-earned experience that there were very few people in this world who would suffer a witch to live. Except for here in Arendelle, it seemed. Here, despite the chaos that had erupted when their own Queen had accidentally frozen the summer, they looked upon people like her (people like _me_ ) as a _gift_. Not a curse.

The realization left me almost giddy. It felt to me in that moment that I’d stumbled upon Eden itself: an unimaginable paradise that was a culmination of every childhood dream I’d ever dared to dream to myself in the cold loneliness of night. I went to sleep that evening vowing to find my place here in Arendelle, so that I might truly call someplace home for the first time since I’d been a terrified twelve-year-old girl huddled in the bottom of a rickety fishing skiff with the sounds of angry shouts and crackling flames echoing endlessly in her ears.

The next morning, I snuck off into the back garden of the inn for some privacy and created a tightly woven reed basket with an artful twist of my wrist, and filled it to bursting with the most eye-catchingly gorgeous flowers I could imagine with much the same effort. I then headed to the main square of the city, which functioned as something of an open-air market to those vendors willing to brave the cold weather. There were few better ways to learn about a new place than to immerse yourself in the local economy, I’d found. And everyone liked flowers.

I found it distinctly ironic that Princess Anna was one of the first people I met upon my arrival. I didn’t know who she was, at first. She was dressed well, of course. Like a noble, though certainly not to the level of pomp I’d come to expect from royalty having lived under the rule of the monarchs on the Southern Isles for so long. She’d addressed me warmly –like an equal—and rambled out half a dozen questions that ranged from an inquiry as to my nationality (“I’ve never seen anyone with skin that’s dark like yours. Where are you from? Not that you aren’t so, super-beautiful! Like, sunsets and stained glass pretty, oh my gosh! You probably give boys heart attacks just by smiling.”) to where I’d gotten such exotically beautiful flowers from (“I haven’t seen half of these before, and I read a _lot_ of weird books as a kid. Not that flowers aren’t super-interesting! Because they are. It’s totally not nerdy to know a lot about plants. I mean, they’re lovely, right?”). It was both endearing and somewhat alarming to be so suddenly bombarded with such unbridled enthusiasm from a complete stranger. And… oddly flattering, I supposed. I’d smiled and answered her questions as best as I could remember them. It wasn’t until somewhere in between “I was born in Portugal, milady, though my mother was Algerian. I’ve only just arrived in Arendelle,” and “I’m very fond of plants, milady. I grew these myself,” that a pair of harried-looking men wearing swords and the crest of the royal family of Arendelle on their chests ran huffing to the bubbly redhead’s side, where they took traditional guard positions just behind and to each side her.

“Please, I _must_ insist that you tell us where you’re going before you run off like that, Princess Anna,” the one on the left scolded her in a strained tone, and… _oh_. This was the _Princess_.

I didn’t have much time to be shocked or overawed however, because without even acknowledging her guards beyond a sheepish glance, Princess Anna was suddenly insisting that I take a job at the palace as the gardener since I was new to the city, looking for work, and so obviously talented. Apparently, the royal gardener had died several years ago while the castle doors were shut, and had never been replaced, seeing as there was no need for opulent gardens with no one to enjoy them. However, the castle doors were open now, and the gardens needed tending to. Who better to do so, the Princess pointed out excitedly, than someone who could grow such beautiful flowers?

And with logic like that, how could I say no? (I didn’t even hesitate in saying yes. This was everything I’d ever dared hope for and more.)

So here I was, walking through my silent new domain, frowning thoughtfully. I was happy to be here. Princess Anna was a wonderful, kind girl. I’d _never_ been treated as kindly as she’d treated me by a stranger before. I knew I’d made the right decision in coming here as soon as I’d met her. Not that I’d doubted it before, what with the populace’s lack of fear of their own monarch’s supernatural powers. (Though from the instant the Princess Anna escorted me onto the palace grounds for a short tour of my new home, I’d understood why it would be hard for them to fear the Snow Queen. The palace itself was a monument of wintertime beauty, even now in the depths of autumn. Beautiful ice glinted from the palace spires. Sculptures, seals, puffs of snow, all arranged with incredible skill and artistry. I’d even heard that there was ice skating in the courtyard every Friday evening, which the Princess confirmed. Queen Elsa had taken something that was once feared and created so many _beautiful_ things. Of _course_ they loved it.) It made me feel less afraid. As if –even were someone to see my powers—I would be allowed to live in peace. That there wouldn’t be a repeat of my childhood. No more hate… and no more fear. (And that was something I wanted with such fervor that it had long ago crossed into the realm of desperation.)

That didn’t mean I was keen to go around flaunting my powers just yet though. I’d be the best damned gardener that Arendelle had ever seen, and didn’t doubt that the supernatural quality of my work would be obvious from the start; but I’d wait to use my powers openly in front of others until I was absolutely sure it was safe. I couldn’t shake the deep-seated fear of violent reprisal that had been my reality since childhood. Not yet. I was glad (and absolutely grateful, as I told a blushing Anna repeatedly after she’d shown me the small gardener’s quarters that were to be my new home and basically given me carte blanche on the gardens themselves) that I was offered the job at the castle though. Not only was I closer to the Queen –the whole reason I’d even come to Arendelle in the first place—but I was allowed the entirety of the palace gardens to play in. Sure, I’d done some amazing things with plants out in the wilderness on my own, but I’d never had the opportunity to use my powers in a legitimate _garden_ before. I’d always been too afraid of seeming too skilled. Of being _seen_.

I was thrilled, frankly. But I was being very careful to plan this out, so I wouldn’t mess up: hence my walk through the gardens this evening when technically, I should have been taking supper in the servant’s hall. I just… I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted Queen Elsa to have palace gardens that were the absolute envy of the world, as my own little gift to her to express my silent appreciation for her show of courage. It couldn’t be easy for her to be so exposed to public opinion, I knew. Hell, I was just impressed by the exquisite control she showed over her powers! Mine were dangerous and difficult to learn control over, certainly, but I imagined hers were more so. So for all these reasons, despite never having met her, I respected and greatly admired the Snow Queen. Taking in these dead gardens that were once so full of life… I knew that I could make something beautiful for her, and for her sister, who had shown me such faith and kindness.

“Oh!” a voice abruptly exclaimed from behind me. It was smooth and firm, and unquestionably feminine. Startled, I whipped around. Behind me, on the dead garden path, stood a woman. She was probably the most beautiful creature that I’d ever laid eyes upon. She had a pale, delicate face framed by locks of silvery-blonde hair pulled back into a loose braid, and wore a simple blue cotton tea dress with well-worn leather boots. This woman was clearly startled to see me –as evidenced by the shock etched upon her porcelain features and the hand pressed to her heaving chest—but only as startled as _I_ was to see _her_. Who (besides the gardener) would visit a dead garden?

I returned her wide-eyed stare. “Who are you?” she asked, taking a step closer and analyzing my appearance with a shrewd blue gaze.

“I’m Juniper,” I replied, my mouth snapping shut, doing my very best to shake myself free of my momentary stupor. Certainly this woman was absolutely stunning, but it was rude to stare. “The Princess Anna hired me as the new palace gardener just this morning. Who are you?”

The woman blinked at me incredulously for a moment, before smiling shyly and relaxing a bit. “I live here,” she told me, smirking, before looking around at the grey gardens. The gardens were very large, and separated into several smaller spaces by stone walls and arches. There were about seven individual areas in total, and I hoped to create a different theme in each, once I started my work.

“Well… it’s very nice to meet you,” I offered after a moment, slightly uncomfortable with the sudden appearance of this stranger and scrambling to come up with niceties. “I’ve only been in Arendelle for a very short time, and I’m glad to meet new people.”

The woman laughed lightly –a beautiful , rich sound—and gave me her first genuine smile. My cheeks flushed pink (because _goddess_ she was lovely) but I forced myself not to avert my gaze. Now wasn’t the time to get bashful, I scolded myself.

“If you’ve only been here for a short time, then why did the Princess hire _you_ to care for the gardens, if I might ask?” she queried, head tilted slightly, and… was that supposed to be a challenge? Because if it was, I reasoned, there wasn’t any harm in showing off. Just a little. (Who was I kidding? I never could resist trying to impress a pretty girl. And this was Arendelle. I was… safer, here, than I was before. I _had_ to believe that.)

Grinning mischievously at the woman, I hid an open hand behind my back and flexed my fingers in anticipation that was half terror, half honest excitement. Her eyes widened slightly at my expression. “I’m talented,” I divulged with a playful wink, focusing on my hidden hand as I twisted my fingers slightly, my skin tingling with energy. “Plants like me.”

With that, I exposed my hidden hand with a flourish. Curled around my palm were the delicate roots of the flower I’d created, clinging loosely to a small amount of soil. An Algerian Iris. The beautiful purple-blue petals poking up from the green of the stem were a personal favorite of mine.

The woman gasped and stepped closer, tracing a finger over the curved petals, lips parted slightly in wonder and delight. The flower was a beautiful specimen, as were all of the plants I created using my powers. It was strong and vibrant, and nothing like the half-dead roses that still languished in the forgotten corners of the royal gardens here. Up close, this woman was even more beautiful than I had previously thought. I could even see a light smattering of freckles across her small, upturned nose. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” she breathed.

Gently, I eased my hand free of the roots of the flower and brushed away the dirt before I offered it to her with a warm smile. “For you,” I told her with my most charming smile fixed on my face. I studied her expression carefully, but she seemed more delighted and intrigued than offended by my forwardness.

“How did you do it?” she asked, accepting the delicately curved plant and cradling it with both hands. Her hands, while very smooth, I found to be startlingly cool to the touch as our fingers brushed together.

“Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?” I teased her. “If I told everyone my gardening secrets, I’d be out of a job, wouldn’t I?” The blonde shot me a disgruntled sort of look that made me toss my head back and laugh. I was surprised, really. I hadn’t laughed freely in a very long time. I didn’t know why, but now that I was past my initial startle at her sudden appearance, something about this woman just made me feel… comfortable. She looked to be about my age: maybe a little younger. It was difficult to tell, really. She had a noble sort of facial structure and eyes that were older than they should be, though she was deceptively thin and willowy –as if a strong gust of wind would topple her over. Despite the fact that the dress she wore was simple in design and made of plain fabric, it was of obvious quality: as were her boots, even though they were quite worn. She was clearly well off (though if she lived in the castle, this didn’t surprise me). I very much doubted that this woman was part of the staff. Perhaps she was the daughter of a noble? I wasn’t sure, but I thought it rude to ask. The woman hadn’t given me her name, but I supposed that was her choice.

“What do you plan to do with the gardens, Juniper?” she asked suddenly, changing the subject. “It’s mid-autumn. Not planting season.”

I scoffed. “Planting season? I laugh in the face of winter.” I planted my hands firmly on my hips. “Give me a day. I’m going to give the Queen the most beautiful gardens yet seen in Arendelle!” I informed her, quite sincerely. I wasn’t going to be shy about using my powers to speed up the creation of this garden, though I’d probably only do so in private. Perhaps it was reckless of me to do so, but I sincerely doubted that the Snow Queen would have me burned for witchcraft if anyone found out.

“And what do you think of the Queen?” the woman asked lightly. She was carefully investigating the flower I’d given to her, tracing one slim, milky finger down the neck of the bloom that she followed with her eyes.

I shrugged and stilled somewhat, made nervous enough by this line of questioning to curb my enthusiasm somewhat, but not enough to back away. “I’ve yet to see her in person,” I admitted. “I’ve heard plenty of rumors, of course. That’s why I came. Though as a general rule, the opinions of others matter very little to me. I prefer to make my own judgements.”

The woman gave me an odd look at my answer, as if she’d never heard someone say something quite so strange to her before. “Surely you’ve formed an opinion about her though,” she prompted with a small smile tugging at her lips, “if you came all the way to Arendelle after hearing rumors about her.”

I tilted my head to the side and considered her. “Promise that I won’t find the royal guard bursting into the servants’ quarters tonight and arresting me while I sleep?” I joked. (But I was also quite serious about that. The longer this woman spoke, the more I was convinced she was nobility.)

At the woman’s curiously solemn answering nod, I deemed it safe to continue. “I think she’s brave,” I stated softly, thinking on all I’ve heard of the Snow Queen, both within Arendelle and outside it. Some of the rumors were complementary, others derogatory. I had no way of separating truth from fiction, but this was an inescapable truth. “I’m not… I can’t speak much as to how she runs her kingdom. I wasn’t educated for that. But everyone here seems so _happy_ and... I think that the way she has conducted herself in regards to her powers speaks a great deal to her character.” I studied my nails, suddenly self-conscious of both my words and myself. They were short and clean, but plain –unlike my nameless friend’s, I noticed, whose nails were glossy and carefully manicured. “I’ve heard a great deal about what happened at her coronation both on my travels and after I arrived here, and… I know that the opinion of a gardener isn’t worth all that much in the grand scheme of things, but… it takes courage, to admit a mistake. And even more to take responsibility for fixing it,” I said slowly, glancing up and almost immediately becoming transfixed with the way she was looking at me with complete and undivided attention. “I’ve travelled to many places, and I’ve seen a great many rulers. Each and every one of them makes mistakes, but _admitting_ to them? Taking responsibility for and _fixing_ them? That’s… that’s a rare thing. Certainly worthy of my respect.”

She stared at me a moment longer as if gauging my sincerity before she nodded slowly, a shy smile overtaking her face. “It’s good that the Princess Anna brought you here,” the woman finally said. “These gardens have been cold and empty for far too long. I hope that they can be beautiful once again.” She took a step back, glancing down the path that led to the castle proper. The gardens were enclosed by the castle walls, but were separate from the building itself.

“Come see me here tomorrow, and you’ll be able to see for yourself,” I challenged in a cheerful sort of way. With my powers, I could complete the work on the entirety of the garden within a half hour at the very most –not that this woman would know that—and I imagined that even holding back significantly, I wouldn’t be able to resist having at least _something_ to show off at the end of the day. Besides, I wanted desperately to see her again. To feel the strange peace that flooded me when I looked at her.

She glanced at me with a curious mixture of shyness and disbelief, a hint of pink dusting her alabaster cheekbones. “I will,” she promised, bringing the iris closer to her chest. “Thank you, Juniper.”

I gave her a wink and a sweeping curtsey, lifting the hem of my brown cotton summer dress. “I shall see you then, my lady,” I announced grandly (or perhaps like a bumbling fool; and given my lack of formal education in courtly mannerisms I would hardly know the difference), earning myself a soft laugh as the woman in the blue tea dress walked away. I watched her go silently, admiring the fluid way that she moved: like a little silver fish flickering through the shallows of a brook. She moved like a dancer.

I dreamed of silver fishes that night. My second night in Arendelle, and the first in my new home. The gardener’s quarters were actually quite nice. They weren’t anything fancy, but they were clean and functional and comfortable, and positioned on the far end of the servant’s wing closest to the gardens themselves. (For convenience, I could only assume.) I had a solid bed and a fireplace, and a bookshelf and a rug and a desk. Meals were provided for all of the live-in servants in the kitchens by a rotating cast of the palace’s cooks, and were (I was assured by two young chambermaids and a middle-aged footman I took breakfast with) without exception, delicious.

I liked watching all of the friendly palace servants go about their business. They’d all been quite welcoming to the newest addition to their ranks, and had each expressed their eagerness to see the gardens restored once more. I was even guided on a short tour of the palace proper by Gerda, the head of the household, so I’d be aware of all of the important locations in my new home. (The palace itself was somewhat gaudy and austere for my tastes, but I was just a peasant who had literally spent half my childhood running wild through local forests. I figured I wasn’t the best judge of interior décor then, by default.)

I couldn’t dally and stay away from the gardens for long though. For a time -after I was run from my birth town and before I’d settled in the Southern Isles- I’d lived in the wilderness when I traveled between settlements, surviving off of my powers. Whereas the Snow Queen was mistress of winter, _I_ was mistress of spring. Plants were my element. If it grew beneath the sun, it answered to my command. So I was used to living in fantastical garden environments; but I had never created a garden for someone _else’s_ enjoyment before, and I was giddy with excitement in an almost childlike way that I had the opportunity to do so now. Offering the redheaded girl who’d turned out to be a princess one of my flowers was a stroke of brilliant luck for me, as I had never dared hope to be the gardener for a _Queen_ , much less the Snow Queen of Arendelle herself!

It was a good thing that the gardens were so dead and empty really, because as I sashayed through the deserted space, tossing my unbound, wildly curly black hair over one shoulder I let my powers loose for anyone to see, should they have been watching. (Though I _had_ checked for eavesdroppers before I’d begun. I wasn’t an idiot. It was just fortunate for me that the gardens were removed enough from the palace proper that no one really had business here during working hours.) Sparks of emerald danced between my fingertips and green swelled beneath my bare feet as I walked. It had been a long time since I let it all out unreservedly, but this is what I did now; and the cold gardens sprang to life under my touch. Splashes of color and twisting vines... bursts of green sparks filled the air around me, and I was in my element.

It wasn’t until night was nearly falling that my mystery blonde returned. I was reclining in the fork of a beech tree, humming happily to myself, when I heard her voice.

“Gods above…” she breathed, sapphire eyes wide and glistening with wonder as she stepped slowly along the path, turning in a slow circle drinking in the sight of my masterpiece with body language speaking to her utter disbelief. Even I had to admit I’d outdone myself. Though I’d limited myself to this one enclosed corner of the garden for the day, I’d created something of a little floral wonderland. As with any palace gardens, there were several (in this case, seven) ‘rooms’ separated by little gravel paths and archways, and I planned to theme each of them differently over the course of the week. The particular area that I was lounging above at the moment was the only one I’d completed thus far, and I was unabashedly proud of myself with how it’d turned out. It was lush with beech trees and hellebore, snowdrops, hardy cyclamen, gentian flowers, and several graceful Algerian Irises in prominent positions. Blue ivy and lush ferns swirled over broken bits of white marble (that I’d dragged from another portion of the gardens) and tufts of baby’s breath and iceplant nestled in the nooks and crannies at the bases of the tree trunks while strings of juniper berries made appearances around the enclosing arches. This was the center of the gardens, and it was a vision of white and blue, inspired by the woman currently passing below the tree that I was lounging in.

I found it fitting that a beautiful garden be inspired by a beautiful woman.

“Did I disappoint?” I asked, calling out from my perch in the tree.

The woman jumped violently and spun around, looking for me. “Juniper?” she said uncertainly. The blonde looked much the same as she had yesterday –all pale elegance—except today, her tea dress was white with a blue silk sash. She still wore her worn leather boots and her stylistically messy braid.

I smiled glowingly at the sight of her and giggled when she didn’t spot me. “Up here!” Deep blue eyes locked onto my brown ones, and my smile was returned.

My sort-of-friend rushed to the base of the beech tree, careful not to crush any plants, but didn’t climb; and instead stood looking up at me with something close to awe. “Juniper, did you do this? _All_ of this? In _one_ day?” she demanded, eyes wide.

I grinned languidly down at her and shifted so that I was laying with my stomach pressed up against the branch I’d been resting on, allowing my bare arms and unbound curls to dangle in the open air of the early evening, my chin resting on the rough bark. I was perhaps twelve feet off the ground. “I _did_ tell you that plants like me,” I pointed out, winking again. “What do you think?”

To my faint alarm, the blonde’s eyes grew suspiciously bright as she stared up at me. I felt relief upon hearing her words though. “It’s… it’s beautiful. I’ve never seen the gardens look this way,” she told me.

My smile grew wider at these words, and I was fairly certain that it was more than a little reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat. “It’s not done yet, obviously, but I’m glad you think so,” I confessed. “You inspired this section, you know.” I lazily gestured around me, indicating the varying shades of blue and white. It was a surreal scene, and oddly soothing to look at. Her eyes widened and she glanced around once more.

“Really?”

“Yes. You’re beautiful, you know. You make an equally lovely garden,” I shot back easily, despite my internal wince the moment the words made it out of my mouth. I’ve been told that I’m... a bit blunt, but that it can be an oddly charming trait. I desperately hoped that this was one of those times.

Blushing heavily at the comment (much to my relief and delight) the woman averted her eyes to take in the garden again. “How is this possible?” she breathed, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Did Anna know about this?”

I closed my eyes and rested my cheek against the pale bark of the tree, humming softly. “How is anything possible?” I laughed teasingly, trying desperately to ignore the hot band of panic tightening around my chest. I shouldn’t have been so cavalier with my powers, I knew. I should have taken far more time to complete even this small section of the gardens, despite my eagerness to please a personal hero of mine. And I had planned to at first, but then… I’d met _this_ woman with the beautiful face and the beautiful voice. I wanted to see her smile at me. I wanted to _impress_ her.

It was stupid, really. I didn’t even know her name, and yet… I just had a feeling that this woman was special. That she was a kindred spirit. More than anything, I wanted her to look favorably upon me, and I’d already been so excited for this garden… But she didn’t seem upset or alarmed by the obvious magic I’d worked. (For now, at least.) Just surprised. I desperately hoped this was a good sign, and that my recklessness hadn’t already ruined my home here.

“The Princess will be surprised, I expect,” I continued, answering her second question. “I told her I was talented, but like you, I don’t think she quite understood what I meant by that.” I paused. “Do you think that she and the Queen will like it?” I asked, suddenly feeling uncertain. “It _is_ their garden, after all, and Princess Anna was exceptionally kind to me. I can only assume that the Queen is just as noble, and I’d like to give them something beautiful. There’s still a lot left to do, and I could change what’s already here if they hate it…” I cut myself off and awaited a response, eyes still squeezed shut. I tended to babble when I’m nervous. The silence that followed stretched on so long that I began to genuinely fear that she’d run away, and I opened my eyes in alarm.

The woman hadn’t moved, thankfully; she was staring at me in a calculating sort of way that made me want to squirm with discomfort, but I held still. “I think… I think that they’ll love it,” she finally responded after what seemed like forever. There was a hesitance in her answer that rattled at my insecurities, but I could see the honesty in the woman’s eyes as she spoke. She seemed cautious, of course. She seemed far too intelligent not to notice the glaringly obvious –that what I’d done over the course of a single day here should have been impossible—but didn’t seem frightened. Only deeply curious. It was, I thought, a very good sign.

Heart soaring slightly, I swung myself from the fork in the tree and dropped to my feet, dusting my hands together before facing the woman again. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that!” I exclaimed excitedly, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Do you want to hear my plans for the rest of it?”

Looking like she wanted to burst out laughing, the blonde just nodded and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind one ear, eyeing me oddly. It was adorable, really, but I got the feeling that she really was silently laughing at me.

I crinkled my nose at her. “What?”

“Juniper… you’re a bit of a mess,” the woman admitted. Apparently, my expression of surprise was quite funny, as she let loose several crystalline peals of laughter that made me shiver slightly with delight. I had to admit that she was right though. I’d chosen a simple forest green working dress for the day, but though it’d been clean to start with, it was by this point completely covered in smudges of soil and bits of foliage. My hands and bare feet were worse, but that was harder to see what with my dark skin. My hair, of course, was completely mussed. In all honestly, I looked like I’d taken a tumble down a mountain. (Working with plants wasn’t exactly the best way to stay clean, and Lord knows I’d given up on such petty things as “looking presentable” a very long time ago.)

I was used to looking like this, but I suppose that the woman –who said she lived in the castle and I’d decided was _clearly_ nobility of some degree despite her nearly scandalously casual state of dress—was unaccustomed to seeing it.

I tilted my head to one side, grinning unapologetically. “Would you believe me if I said that I fought a bush and lost?” I offered with a small shrug.

She shook her head, her toothy smile widening. “Not a chance.”

I sighed. “Worth a try.”

An idea occurred to me then. An impulsive, _stupid_ idea. But… it was one I quite suddenly and quite fiercely wanted to try. The idea that I could live openly with my powers was simply far too tantalizing for me to just forget, and so far, this woman seemed to have reacted relatively well to my… oddities. If this was going to work anywhere, it suddenly occurred to me, it would _have_ to work in Arendelle. She and I got along fairly well so far, and were afforded relative privacy here in the gardens. Would it be so bad, I wondered, to show her a _little_ bit of magic? Just to see if Arendelle really _was_ a place I wouldn’t have to live in with constant fear?

I wasn’t usually one for impulsive decisions, but this was a learned behavior (since impulsiveness was a pretty good way to get yourself killed for someone like me), and not something I’d been born with. By nature, I was a very easygoing person, and more than willing to leap without looking just for the thrill of it. And this and my already giddy mood was what worked against me now.

I smiled impishly at my companion, careful to keep any signs of nervousness out of my face (though I couldn’t say if I succeeded). “Well if I’m to look like a beast, _you’ve_ got to make up for it,” I teased her, a youthful brashness suddenly overpowering my higher reasoning. If I thought too hard about what I was about to do, I knew I’d never go through with it. So I decided to just… get it over with. With deliberate slowness, I raised an index finger to eye level between us and blew over its surface. The telltale green shimmer of my magic erupted from its tip, and I used it to draw a line in the air that followed from the top of the woman’s loose braid to its tip. All along its length, tiny royal blue gentian violets wove themselves into her hair, their color perfectly matching the sash of her dress. It was a gorgeous effect, really.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t one that the woman seemed to be prepared for. She gasped in shock, freezing in place like a perfect marble statue. I frowned a little at the reaction, the reality of what I’d just done shattering my blissful mood. The last time I’d performed my magic within sight of another human being had literally started a riot; and I was in no way interested in a repeat performance, despite the instinct that was telling me that this woman could be trusted.

“Please don’t be afraid,” I pleaded with her softly, taking a step back and looking down at my feet in an effort to appear nonthreatening. “I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

A short silence.

“How is this possible?” she whispered, still wide-eyed and rigid.

I frowned in slight confusion and dared to meet her gaze. “I was just… born this way,” I offered haltingly. “Would it really be magic if we knew the hows and whys?”

Her facial expression had not altered from shock. “You said… that you came here because of rumors you heard about the Queen. Is this why?”

I nodded sheepishly, a tentative hope unfurling in my chest at the fact that she’d not yet run away screaming for the palace guards. “She’s the first person I’ve heard word of who is like me,” I admitted, scuffing my foot into the gravel of the garden path and shooting her a hesitant smile before focusing back on my feet. “I… I had hoped that under her rule in Arendelle, I wouldn’t have to be afraid any longer.”

More silence.

“Why have you never asked me my name?”

I looked up again, confused. The woman had regained her composure, and her porcelain features were now inscrutable as she studied me with eyes that were once again calculating. “It… doesn’t matter what your name is. It’s yours to tell me,” I told her quite honestly. As someone who’d lived half her life in hiding, I wasn’t in the habit of asking unwanted questions. “And… I like you.” I admitted. “You were kind to me, even if you didn’t know me, which is something that I’m understandably unaccustomed to. A name can’t change that.”

“Elsa.”

I blinked. “Sorry?”

“My name,” the blonde clarified, her mouth twitching into a smile for the first time since I’d grown flowers into her hair. “It’s Elsa.”

I blinked again. “Oh. _Oh_.” It was my turn to be shocked. Elsa, as in… _Queen_ Elsa.

I was... a complete idiot.

Trembling with a sudden wave of fear (something I hadn’t felt since the moment I stepped foot of the ship from the Southern Isles) I dipped into a deep curtsey. “P-please forgive my forwardness, your majesty,” I whispered, eyes glued to Elsa’s feet. “I meant no disrespect.” She still wore the tattered brown leather boots that I’d noticed before. What kind of Queen wore boots like _those_? What kind of Queen took walks alone through a dead garden? I didn’t… I didn’t understand. I could only be thankful that I hadn’t outright insulted the woman when she’d asked me about… herself. Hopefully she wouldn’t have me executed or something equally distasteful.

I jumped slightly with surprise as Elsa took my chin in one hand and angled my face towards her, the gentle pressure of her silky fingers urging me to stand straight. I complied without hesitation, though my heart stuttered when I saw just how soft her expression had become. The way she was looking at me… with open features and welling blue eyes… My trembles grew in strength, though this time not with fear. I didn’t look away though, and remained frozen in place. It’s not every day that you realize you’ve been completely flippant with the _Queen_.

She bent close to me, searching my eyes, and a few stray strands of her platinum blonde hair whisked away from her braid in the warm summer breeze and tickled my dirt-smudged face. “You’re like me. You have _powers_ ,” Elsa stated, sounding… awed, almost. Disbelieving.

“Yes, I do,” I admitted in a small, vulnerable voice. “I’m… I’m good with plants.” I had never explained my powers to anyone, _ever_ , but my nervousness began to loosen my tongue greatly. “I’ve been able to control their growth ever since I can remember. My family hated me for it.” Tears welled in my eyes as I looked up at Elsa, but I didn’t let them fall. Still, my voice grew rough with them as I carried on, suddenly completely unable to stop the flood of words. “I’ve been alone for _so_ long, so when I heard rumors of the Snow Queen, I just _had_ to see if they were true! I needed to _know_ , your majesty. I needed to see with my own eyes that I wasn’t alone. That there were other people in the world like me. Like… us.” I closed my eyes as the tears streaked down my cheeks. I supposed it wouldn’t do any good to cry if Elsa was displeased with me, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Sure, I’d socialized a bit once I’d started living in the Southern Isles, but I’d always had to hide who I truly was from _everyone_. I (perhaps foolishly) hadn’t hidden from Elsa though –despite not knowing her identity—and now I needed to face the consequences of that decision. It was worth it, in a way, to let these feelings loose, even if it was just once. Cathartic. Because here, right in front of me, was concrete proof that I _wasn’t_ a mistake or a freak. I refused to believe that Elsa was anything but a gods-given _blessing_ , and if _she_ was good, couldn’t I be too?

When I was very small –before my family had started to truly fear me and my powers—my mother used to say that I over-thought things. I suppose this is why I was half-convinced that Elsa was going to have me beheaded within thirty seconds of closing my eyes, and why I was so utterly floored when, of all things, Elsa _hugged_ me.

As in, she released my chin, stepped right up close to me, and held me flush to her body in an almost hesitant way that soon gave way to the sort of desperation that I was very familiar with. Elsa was trembling too, I realized. Just as much as I was. So I returned the embrace just as fiercely, in hopes that I could keep the both of us from shaking apart in the wake of this moment.

“Gods above, Juniper, you’re like me. _You’re like me_ ,” she whispered into my hair. She was crying. I could feel the dampness of her tears leaking through my hair and into my skin.

I understood. _Goddess_ did I understand.

As the last of my fear bled away from me, the emptiness left behind was almost instantly filled to bursting with a heady mixture of joy, relief, and a release of old pain that was somehow still good (like tearing off an old scab). This was, in itself, a little terrifying. To be so utterly, devastatingly _alone_ for so long… it _did_ things to a person. I couldn’t say what Elsa’s life had been like. (We’d only just met, after all, and she was a Queen while I, on the other hand, had always been a mere vagrant. A peasant, at best.)

But knowing with complete surety that you are the only one of your kind –that your very nature was so deplorable to most people that they would eagerly see you gruesomely killed or _worse_ for it—was something I knew we had in common, and it was a feeling I understood intimately. To be free of something so awful that had defined me for so long… it was a little like dying. (Except I never wanted it to stop.) I didn’t know Elsa. But I _knew_ her, and I felt in every line of her body that she’d pressed up against mine that she knew me too, in a way I sincerely doubted anyone else ever could.

The moment was shattered by a rhythmic crunching noise that came to an abrupt halt, as if someone had been running along the path and had skidded to a stop on the gravel.

“E-Elsa?”

As if burned, the Queen and I sprung apart, sporting matching blushes.

“Uh, hello Princess Anna,” I greeted. The redhead was staring at us with bugging eyes, her jaw dropped. And... yes, I could see how this scene could be seen as somewhat... questionable.

At my side, Elsa coughed uncomfortably as she visibly struggled to come up with the right words to explain the situation and I swallowed down my absurd desire to laugh away the tension. Poor Anna had absolutely no context for this, so I supposed we (And wasn't "we" such a beautiful word?) had some explaining to do.

But for the first time that I could remember, I wasn't afraid to do it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, I hope you enjoyed this. It's just a one shot for now, but I'm definitely open to furthering the story at a later date. This was mostly an exercise for me to explore the possibility of Elsa getting to interact with someone like her, as well as for me to play with a character who also has magic without the benefits of having been born a princess. If you can, drop a comment letting me know what you think, and what sorts of interactions you'd like to see from these guys in the future!
> 
> And yes, Elsa and Juniper (aka my disaster bi child) are totally witchy girlfriends. Fight me.


End file.
